Joint Registration
by DaughterOfStarlight
Summary: A wild goose chase lands Mulder and Scully in New Orleans during Mardi Gras and they find themselves saddled with the unfortunate circumstance of having to share a hotel room. One-liners and midnight confessions transpire. Smatterings of M/S. COMPLETE!
1. Bickering

**Hello my freaky darlings! This is in three parts over the course of one night, and follows the bickering, confessions, and mutual respect that usually accompany the names Mulder and Scully. Constructive criticism is gold, as always. **

_**Disclaimer: Though it's hardly necessary, all characters, settings and themes belong to the genius formerly known as Chris Carter.**_

**Enjoy!**

"I told you it was a wild goose chase."

"You always say it's a wild goose chase, Scully."

"Yes, but this isn't the first time I've been right, has it?"

"Alright, admittedly I occasionally attract less than sound cases..."

"Occasionally?"

"But this one sounded promising! A poltergeist and death under dubious circumstances..."

"Noisy, leaky pipes and heart failure in a seventy-two year old woman..."

"The sarcasm hurts, Scully, it really does."

"Don't be a baby, Mulder. If either of us had any problem with sarcasm whatsoever, we would have driven each other insane ages age."

Fox Mulder rolled his eyes, attempting to navigate the packed streets of New Orlean's French Quarter while verbally sparring with Scully. The rent-a-car was ostentatious and had a terrible turning radius, neither of which made the job any easier. She was trying to wrap up her case report _in the moving vehicle_, an act of professional efficiency that annoyed him for some unknown reason. His reports were usually vague and angry, scrawled the night before and laced with just the right amount of paranoia. Hers were neat and thought out, she even cited sources for God's sake…

Mulder abruptly slammed on the brakes to avoid killing a drunken pedestrian who looked like she had started the night's revelries that morning. Scully caught herself on the dash, the papers in her lap spilling onto the ground. She blew her ginger hair out of her face, scowling at him.

"Why is it you never let me drive?"

"I've let you drive!" Mulder said defensively, skirting to avoid a parade float. "And you always get us lost!"

"We're lost _now_!"

"Well you drive like a girl…"

Scully looked at him, nearly aghast at the sheer immaturity of his statement.

"Way to act twelve, _Fox_."

"Alright, if I'm being twelve, you're being five. That was low."

"How did you warrant such a God-awful name, anyway?"

"Has it never occurred to you that maybe I've gotten tired of people asking me that my entire life?"

"Of course. Why do you think I brought it up?"

Mulder ignored her, shifting the car into reverse. Scully held on for dear life as he backpedaled through throngs of pedestrians, over a curb, and into a side alley. Moments later they came to a stop in their hotel parking lot, the one they had been circling the block for ten minuets in order to find. Mulder killed the ignition, smiling at her triumphantly.

"What was that about being lost, Scully?"

She let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding, letting go of the handle above the door. She laughed, but her eyes were hard.

"You're insane!"

"Haven't we established this already?"  
>Scully kicked open the passenger-side door. "I should have taken that transfer…"<br>"Now you're just being mean."

Scully ignored him as she pulled her bag from the trunk, throwing his suitcase at him. He rolled his eyes as he locked the car, following her across the parking lot.

"Alright, I'm sorry for nearly killing the both of us. I'll buy you dinner to make it up."

"It's your turn to buy dinner anyway!"  
>"Yeah…"<p>

Scully laughed again, this time sincerely. "You know what Mulder, I'll let you. Come on, let's go get checked in. "

The hotel office was buzzing with people of all sorts; families, couples, and college kids alike. There were cheap plastic beads hanging from the doorways and colorful feathered masks mounted on the wall, which only served to accent the chaotic rainbow going on inside. Scully shouldered her way to the front desk, and the girl behind the glass looked up anxiously, cradling a phone in the crook of her shoulder.

"?"

The sentence was breathless and jumbled, and Scully blinked a few times before she registered it.

"Uh, checking in."

"Name?"

"Scully and Mulder?"

The girl immediately began conversing with the patron on the other end of the line as she punched the names into the hotel database. Moments later, she handed Scully a room key.

"Enjoy your stay."

Scully stared at the single room key.

"And Mulder?" She repeated.

The girl popped her gum, looking at Scully like she was insane. "Yeah. Joint registration."

"No, there must be a mistake. We ordered separate rooms."

The girl punched the names into the computer again, then shook her head.

"Sorry lady, I have you down for one room. 27B, second floor."

Scully squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, battling back the headache that had been threatening to evolve into a migraine all day.

"Is there a problem?"  
>Her eyes shot open. Mulder had drifted to her side and was lingering there like the excessive amount of festive glitter in the room was making him uncomfortable.<p>

The girl behind the desk hung up the phone, leaning over the counter to examine them both.

"I hope not. I have you two down for one room."

Mulder's eyebrows shot up. "No…No, we don't do that…"

"Can we just order another room?" Scully interjected.

The girl shook her head. "Sorry, Maam, but we're beyond booked for three days straight."

"Well could you recommend any other hotels in the area?"

"Maam, no one within fifty miles of here has so much as a broom closet vacant. Don't you know it's Mardi Gras out there?"

"So there's no way-?"

"Fraid' not."

Mulder and Scully exchanged a private glance, one equal parts horror and amusement. Then Scully turned back to the desk.

"Please tell me there's more than one bed."

"Oh sure, dual queens."

Scully heaved a gigantic sigh, snatching the room key off the counter. The people behind her were shouting for her to hurry up, and there was no use wasting anymore of this girl's time.

"Alright. Thank you."

"Sure. Sorry for the misunderstanding."

Scully was already halfway out the door. "Thanks," Mulder answered for her, following swiftly. Once outside, he fell into time beside his partner, who was striding towards their room, bag in hand.

"For once, I'll openly admit I was completely wrong about this case. We should have stayed in Washington."

"I call first shower."

"Damn it, Scully!"

**Good? Awful? Part two, the meaty bit, up soon. Love to my fans!**


	2. Confessions

**Hello, lovely little monsters! As promised, I deliver unto you part two of Joint Registration. It's been running around my mind forever, and I made myself jot it down before my need to write a Chronicles of Riddick fic took over. But I have certain loyalties to our two favorite FBI agents, and I couldn't let this story go untold.**

**So with the usual cautionary disclaimer and urge to review, please enjoy!**

Mulder languished in the hotel room, eating sunflower seeds and flipping through unsatisfactory channels on the complementary cable TV. Scully was in the bathroom, blow-drying her hair by the sound of it. A moment later, the dryer clicked off and she stuck her head out the door.

"Hand me my clothes, would you? I laid them out but forgot to bring them in the bathroom."

Mulder yawned, nodding toward the bed where her suitcase was.

"Any reason why you can't get them yourself? I'm working on slipping into a comatose state here."

"I'm in a towel, Mulder."

"Again, I'm not seeing how this hinders you walking out here."

She hurled her hairbrush at him, missing purposefully. "Now, Mulder!"

He grinned to himself, picking up her clothes and handing them to her. A moment later she walked into the main room, tightening the drawstring on her pants.

"What are you watching?"

"Nothing of any cultural importance."

"Wouldn't happen to be one of those movie that aren't yours, would it?"

"You mean the ones in the drawer next to those magazines that aren't mine? No, I was thinking more in the realm of the nightly news."

"Fun," Scully sighed, sinking down onto her bed. She stretched, tucking her legs up ender herself neatly. Mulder tossed her the remote.

"Your turn."

Scully tossed it right back at him.

"What's on?"

Mulder sighed, skimming the channels once again.

"Who Wants to be a Millionaire?"

"Don't do game shows."

"Star Wars."

"Tacky."

"Romancing The Stone."

"Cliché and awkward under the circumstances."

Mulder cast her a knowing glance, hinting at a smile.

"Point taken. Uh...Nondescript action flick that can't seem to go fifteen seconds without blowing something up?"

"Perfect. Noncommittal background noise."

Her partner smiled, turning the din of squealing tires and gunshots down to a pleasant murmur. Scully clipped her still-damp hair up, pulling her briefcase on the bed and beginning to contentedly rifle through it's contents. Mulder watched her for a moment, vaguely amused. Then Scully looked up, surprised.

"Mulder, where are my glasses?"

"Well look at that, you've lost them."

Scully looked at him in disgust. "Mulder, did you-?"

He silently held up her glasses, poised between two fingers, a wicked smile playing at his lips. Scully laughed, only slightly scandalized.

"You went through my things!"

"I found them. Notice the operative use of the word 'found'."

Scully rolled her eyes, clambering off the bed and walking over to him. She stood over the armchair, palm up expectantly. Mulder merely twirled the reading glasses through his fingers.

"You work too much, Scully. You make the rest of us look bad."

"And how many times have I covered your lack of a case report in mine?"

"Alright, point taken."

He stood, flicking open her glasses and placing them over her eyes. Then he hooked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering fondly there for a moment. Scully suddenly withdrew, turning from him slightly. Mulder looked like he had been slapped across the face.

"Whoa, what did I do?"

"Nothing…"

You're not still mad about me getting us lost, are you?"

"Not at all," She insisted, going back to her own side of the room. "It's nothing."

Mulder popped another handful of sunflower seeds into his mouth, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"No, I definitely think it's something; the temperature in here just dropped about fifty degrees. Either the poltergeist from this afternoon is very real and has followed us home, or I've upset you. For once, I'm willing to go with the more conventional explanation."

Scully sighed. "It's just…You know that the fact that we shared a hotel room is going to show up on the expense report…"

"So? Saves the bureau some money. Of course, it doesn't _have_ to show up. Not that I'm suggesting we put down the expenses for two rooms and pocket the remainder or anything, because that would be, you know, deplorable and-"

"I'm not talking about money, Mulder…" Scully sighed, regretting ever bringing this up. "I'm talking about…Us."

Mulder looked at her pointedly, saying nothing.

"People talk," Scully continued awkwardly.

"Is this about that office bet on how long it's going to take me to propose to you? Because there was a similar one involving Alex Krycek and we all saw how well that turned out."

Scully laughed, the tension suddenly broken. He was messing with her. Mulder smiled to see her smile, continuing,

"How long have we been working together, Scully?"

Scully sighed, thinking. "Lord...Almost four years now?"

"Right. And have many time have we been thrown into life-threatening, morale wrecking circumstances with little to no chance of escape?"

"Near every other Tuesday."

Mulder laughed, reclining on the bed. "Right! And God knows how many times I've thought you dead..."

"Six, by my reckoning," Scully replied casually. Mulder looked at her, surprised. "No, really. If you count the various time you were sure I was either mind-wiped or beyond human reach." She reached into her briefcase, pulling out a scrap of notebook paper covered in tally marks. "I've thought you dead four times now, shot at you twice, covered for you on seven occasions without having the faintest idea as to your whereabouts, and been "abducted", whether by human entities or powers I still can't quantify, three times."

Mulder looked at her, slack jawed. "You...Kept count?"

Scully shrugged. "It's a coping mechanism."

Mulder let out a low whistle. "We sound downright hazardous to each others health when put into numbers. But my point is, we're very involved in each others lives. You are one of my closest friends, Scully, and I don't have many."

His partner gave a small smile. "And you mine."

"But it doesn't mean we're screwing each other."

Scully almost died laughing. "Mulder!"

"Well it's what you were getting at, isn't it?"

"Yes," She admitted, dispensing the last of her giggles. "You never were subtle."

"No point in being." He crossed to her, sitting down beside her. "Though some things wouldn't be so terrible..."

There was a smile in his voice, and Scully slammed the palm of her hand into his sternum, effectively winding him for a moment. She felt no remorse over this action, naturally. Mulder recovered laughing.

"Point taken."

He rose, tossing on his jacket

"Come on. It's late and we're both off duty. I'll buy you a drink."

Scully stretched out on the bed like a cat. "You go ahead; I'm exhausted."

"Chasing after shadows will do that to you. You sure? It's Mardi Gras in New Orleans, live a little."

Scully fluffed her pillows. "I wouldn't last till midnight, Mulder, and we have an early flight tomorrow. But don't think you don't owe me dinner, I'll get it out of you tomorrow."

Mulder rolled his eyes, grabbing his keys off the bedside table. He bent down and brushed his lips across her cheek, a sentiment not entirely unfamiliar to either of them. "You work too much," He repeated softly.

Then suddenly he was halfway out the door, a boyish smirk on his face. "Don't wait up, honey."

"Don't get arrested," Scully muttered, watching him leave. Once he was gone, she shook her head, speaking to no one in particular,

"The tally for bailing you out of the drunk tank stands at two, lets not make it three."

**Hope it was enjoyed! Reviews are the fuel for my literary endeavors, so please leave a donation in the little box. Kisses!**


	3. Affection

**Sorry it's taken so long, beautiful and beloveds, but here is your finale, the last installment in Joint Registration. Its been fun and hopefully enjoyed by all, so make sure to check out some of my other fics before its all said and done. With love and only the best wishes, I take my leave.**

The Louisiana sunlight streamed in through dingy motel windows, stirring Scully awake. Her eyes flickered open, and she gave a small smile of contentment. She was rested and warm and...The smile disappeared. Not alone.

Her fingers drifted to the arm draped over her waist, then brushed across the brunette mop of hair of the person sleeping beside her. This was nice, admittedly, and so far innocent.

She sighed. But not by the book.

"Mulder," Scully said softly, lifting her head up. He almost didn't look like a paranoid smart-ass while asleep, how cute. "Mulder, wake up."

He muttered something incomprehensible, burying his face in her shoulder. "Not awake."

"Mulder, let me go."

"Five more minuets."

Scully lost her patience, snapping at him. "Fox!"

"I told you not to call me that!" He moaned, reluctantly withdrawing and rolling onto his back. Her pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes. "Oh God, kill me now."

"I'll save Him the trouble. What are you doing in my bed?"  
>"Whiskey...scotch...Beads, lots of beads."<p>

"Mulder, are you drunk?"

"Nope, hung-over. Finite difference. Close those curtains, would you?"

Scully defiantly walked over to the window and flung the curtains wide open, prompting Mulder to screech in pain.

"Devil woman!"

"Why didn't you use your own bed, Agent Mulder?"

Her partner heaved himself into a sitting position, rubbing his face. She had used the 'agent' prefix, which usually indicated a definite lack of amusement.

Your bed is approximately four feet closer to the door than mine is. After last night, I couldn't afford those four feet. To be frank, I'm amazed I'm not waking up somewhere on Bourbon Street right now, covered in feathers next to a drag queen..."

"Drag queen and all? We do think alike."

"Did we sleep together?"

Scully threw a shirt at him. "I think I would have noticed."

"Flatterer."

"Get dressed before I shoot you."

Mulder obligingly shrugged the shirt on, fumbling with the buttons. Scully ran a brush through her hair, flicking on the coffee percolator. After a minute of quietly pained moaning from Mulder and stony silence from Scully, she handed him a Styrofoam cup of black coffee.

"Here. It'll cut through the hangover."

"I thought that was bloody maries."

"Frat boys use bloody maries. FBI agents use coffee. "

He took it gratefully, sipping on it for a few seconds. "Scully..."

"Yeah?" She asked, pulling on her robe.

"Why do you put up with me?"

She walked over to him, setting her hand on the side of his face. There was pity in her eyes, but also caring. "Because I just love that no-windows basement office with one file cabinet, too many posters, and countless holes in the ceiling from your goddam pencil habit."

"Again with the sarcasm..."

Scully smiled, brushing his hair out of his face in an almost motherly way. "Who says I'm being sarcastic? Now finish your coffee and take a shower. You smell like Mardi Gras."

"You mean the cathedral candles, night air, Creole food kind of Mardi Gras?"

"No. The drag queen kind." She tapped her cheekbone with a mischievous smirk. "You've got some glitter right here, by the way."

Fifty two minuets later, Scully and Mulder were standing by the rent-a-car, bathed, packed, and in full Bureau dress. Mulder, who thanks to the miracles of disposable razors and soap looked slightly less hung-over, was nonetheless gazing intently at the drivers door as if it pained him.

"Hey Scully...You wanna drive this time?"

His partner shook her head slowly, snatching the keys from him. She got in and reved the engine, then surprised him by leaning over to kiss him as he buckled his seat belt.

"Only if you buy breakfast."


End file.
